Chapter 30 - Page 2

enough," answered Mr. Worden, "but it clearly means all
_civilized_ nations. Then, this was before the discovery of America, and
it is fair enough to presume that the command referred solely to _known_
nations. The texts of scripture are not to be strained, but are to be
construed naturally, Corny, and this seems to me to be the natural reading
of that passage. No, I have been rash and imprudent in pushing duty to
exaggeration, and shall confine my labours to their proper sphere,
during the remainder of my days. Civilization is just as much a means of
providence as religion itself; and it is clearly intended that one should
be built on the other. A clergyman goes quite far enough from the centre of
refinement, when he quits home to come into these colonies to preach the
gospel; letting alone these scalping devils the Indians, who, I greatly
fear, were never born to be saved. It may do well enough to have societies
to keep them in view, but a meeting in London is quite near enough ever to
approach them."

Such, ever after, appeared to be the sentiments of the Rev. Mr. Worden, and
I took no pains to change them. I ought, however, to have alluded to the
parting with Anneke, before I gave the foregoing extract from the parson's
homily. Circumstances prevented my having much private communication with
my betrothed before quitting the Nest; for Anneke's sympathy with Mary
Wallace was too profound to permit her to think much, just then, of aught
but the latter's sorrows. As for Mary herself, the strength and depth of
her attachment and grief were never fully appreciated, until time came to
vindicate them. Her seeming calm was soon restored, for it was only under
a tempest of feeling that Mary Wallace lost her self-command; and the
affliction that was inevitable and irremediable, one of her regulated
temperament and high principles, struggled to endure with Christian
submission. It was only in after-life that I came to know how intense and
absorbing had, in truth, been her passion for the gay, high-spirited,
ill-educated, and impulsive young Albanian.

Anneke wept for a few minutes in my arms, a quarter of an hour before our
melancholy procession quitted the Nest. The dear girl had no undue reserve
with me; though I found her a little reluctant to converse on the subject
of our own loves, so soon after the fearful scenes we had just gone
through. Still, she left me in no doubt on the all-important point of my
carrying away with me her whole and entirely undivided heart. Bulstrode she
never had, never _could_ love. This she assured me, over and over again.
He amused her, and she felt for him some of the affection and interest of
kindred, but not the least of any other interest. Poor Bulstrode! now I was